The Burglar in My Kitchen
by steepedinshadows419
Summary: AU - Iris wakes up in the middle of the night to a strange man taking food out of her refrigerator. Turns out he's not a burglar and he'll be staying a few nights in her house. Sparks fly in close quarters. Barry/Iris.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** My submission for the _Westallen-at-the-Movies_ event on **westallenfun** 's tumblr. I chose the movie, The Host, for inspiration, but it only very loosely connects to Jared and Melanie's first meeting.

 ***** Many thanks to **sendtherain** for being an excellent beta in a time crunch. :)

 ***** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

...

 **Chapter 1 -**

The clatter woke her up at half past three.

She waited for a few moments, wondering if she'd imagined it. Another sound came from outside her window. Already tense from the clatter that seemed to be emanating from downstairs, she flinched and whipped her head towards the sound. She breathed a sigh of relief and mentally scolded herself when she saw it was a just a tree branch hitting the glass panes.

 _Thirty mile-an-hour winds…_ The meteorologist had said that on the news some hours earlier.

For all she knew it was the wind causing objects to hit the house from the first floor.

But then the sound came again, and she _knew_ she hadn't imagined it.

It was a thump on the floor followed by the cooling sound that always came when someone opened their fridge. The clatter earlier had sounded eerily similar to the sound of someone coming in the back door, someone who was unaware that was where they kept their bags of recyclable garbage.

A loud sigh came from downstairs now, then a groan. She was positive she heard the shuffling of feet and opening of cupboards.

She'd hated how sound traveled in the house when she was a teenager, but now she was sure it would save her life. And her dad's, since she assumed he was asleep in his bed just down the hall.

 _What a story it would make too_ , she thought with no small amount of pride. _Reporter Stops Thief During Break-In…from stealing food?_ She rolled her eyes at her pathetic lack of creativity in the middle of the night.

Pushing further attempts at headlines aside, she slowly pulled back her blankets and quietly went to her always half-opened closet. In the far back, guarded by piles of shoes, lay the heavy silver bat her dad had given her when she was ten.

" _Don't use it unless absolutely necessary_ ," he'd instructed, after which she'd initially pouted and whined, " _but I wanted a guuuun._ "

She decided now that attempted burglary of food maybe didn't warrant getting shot – or death.

She shook her head again at the morbid direction her thoughts had taken, and instead fished out the bat. She tied her floral, silky robe around her waist and opened her bedroom door. She crept cautiously down the hallway, cursing that one creaky spot on the floor that she'd forgotten about – that she _always_ seemed to forget about – and made her way to the staircase. Upon reaching her dad's room, she paused momentarily and listened for the sound of heavy breathing or snoring. She heard both.

Tensed and legitimately starting to feel afraid, Iris clutched the baseball bat tighter and made her way down the stairs.

…

Staring into the contents of the refrigerator, Barry started to despair.

 _Where are your pickles, Detective West?_

He'd told him about his late-night pickle cravings. He swore he had. Detective West had nodded along, so Barry had assumed he was taking notes. Now though, he recalled how distracted Joe had been looking at his phone and then having to take a call.

Having spent the greater part of the last fifteen minutes tearing apart the fridge and opting for a glass of milk in the process, Barry had to admit defeat and settle for an orange.

He wrinkled his nose as he eyed the fruit in his hand.

He had nothing against oranges, truly. It was just that they were so messy. And sticky. And he hated pulp. And to be perfectly honest, he had yet to discover where Detective Joe West kept his napkins or paper towels. Or even regular towels if Barry decided to wash his hands in the sink.

He was just about to close the refrigerator door, resigned to his fate, when a voice sounded behind him. And it _wasn't_ Detective West. It wasn't even a masculine voice but for some reason, it sounded familiar.

"Don't. Move."

Barry froze, then slowly lifted his hands, one still holding the orange and turned to face who was behind him.

His eyes widened when he saw her. Iris West, adorned in a loosely fitting pink silk robe covering up her extra-large navy CCPD t-shirt and knee-length duck pajama bottoms, all of which made him smile, until he saw the very real silver baseball bat she clutched in her hands. Her expression was filled with no-nonsense determination. He tensed, causing some of the juices from the orange to dribble down his arm.

 _Prepare for a concussion._

"Who are you and why are you stealing –" She paused and analyzed the orange that was starting to flatten in his grasp. "An orange?" She started to lower the bat, but then refocused and raised it again. Her eyes narrowed, burning holes into him. It further encouraged her when she saw his Adam's apple bob in reaction to her intensity. "Why are you stealing fruit from my fridge in the middle of the night?" she demanded.

"I –" he began.

She lifted her bat higher and let it sway a little in the air, making him aware – as if he hadn't been already – that she was quite prepared to swing right at him if he gave her the wrong answer.

"I'm not stealing," he said carefully.

She laughed. "This isn't your house, and you're taking food out of my fridge. How is that not stealing?"

Barry sighed. His shoulders slumped.

"Your dad didn't tell you."

Iris's brows furrowed, and she lowered the bat entirely so that it almost hit the ground.

"Didn't tell me what?"

"What the _hell_ is going on down here?"

Iris spun around, eyes wide. Barry looked towards the sound with the same reaction.

Joe relaxed as he came closer.

"Oh, Barry. It's you."

" _What_?" Iris's head whipped around twice – once to look back at Barry and the other to zero in on her father. "Dad, you _know_ him?" Joe's lips parted to speak, but she kept going. "How? When? And why have I never heard you talk about him before?"

Barry and Joe shared a look, which only served to irritate the young woman between them further.

"Okay, one of you better start talking – _right now_." She turned to Barry again, her eyes condescending. "And not you. I don't trust you." Barry gawked. "You were trying to steal fruit from our fridge."

"He wasn't stealing, honey."

"Thank you," Barry muttered with a sigh.

"He was!" Iris insisted, eyes ablaze as she focused in on her father. "I was right here. I saw—"

"Is that a baseball bat?" Joe frowned, finally noticing. Then his eyes registered the orange in Barry's hand, mostly because the juice from it was dripping into a puddle just behind where Iris stood and so near the bat hovering above the floor.

"Well, yes, Dad, you said to use it in emergencies! I thought this qualified as…" Iris was saying, but Joe didn't hear her.

"You don't even like oranges, Barry."

Barry blinked, then quickly set the orange on the counter, causing the juice to travel across the space between the fridge and its new destination. Joe almost whimpered aloud.

"I was looking for pickles," Barry admitted.

Joe exhaled as the realization hit.

" _Pickles_ ," he said, sounding nearly awestruck. "You did say you love pickles."

"Both of you!" Iris nearly screamed. They both turned their attention on her. "Will you please tell me what's going on? I want to know why I shouldn't hit this _boy_ ," She nudge her head in Barry direction, "with this very nice baseball bat and call the police about his breaking and entering."

Joe cleared his throat and closed some of the distance between them.

"First of all," he began, gently wrenching the bat from her hands, " _I'm_ the police." Iris released the bat, but she still glared up at him. "And second of all, he's not breaking and entering. I gave him a spare key."

Iris's jaw dropped. She turned around again, her hair flying around her and saw that her father was not lying. Barry held up the spare key between his fingers.

Her shoulders slumped and she turned back to her father, looking defeated.

"I don't understand."

He sighed.

"Barry, here…" He gave him a nod in the direction of the paper towels that seemingly appeared out of nowhere, and Barry proceeded to clean up the mess he'd made.

Joe guided his daughter towards the living room where they found the large bag Iris had begun to presume was for stealing things in was actually a duffel bag filled with clothes and essentials. It was sitting next to the couch beside a light blanket and pillow.

"He's the son of one of my good friends from college. Henry Allen."

Iris blinked, rapidly trying to search her mind for some familiarity to the name.

"The doctor who stitched me up many a time during my early reckless years as a young cop."

She made the connection.

" _That_ Henry Allen," she whispered almost reverently.

Joe nodded. "Yes."

"But what does that have to do with—"

"When Barry was about ten, his mother got very sick, and…" Joe paused, glancing across the room to see if Barry was tensing up, but he couldn't see him. He hoped he was maybe washing up in the bathroom and not just crawling on the floor still cleaning up his mess.

He lowered his voice just in case.

"Henry moved Barry and his mother to the East Coast for the remainder of Nora's last days." He turned towards her so his voice traveled only between them. "She had been diagnosed with breast cancer, and they weren't early enough to stop it."

Iris felt a heavy weight set on her chest. She suddenly felt incredibly guilty for having contemplated bashing Barry's head in with her heavy silver baseball bat.

"After her passing, Henry felt that where they were living at the time and Central City seemed to be too full of painful memories. Since Barry always wanted to be a CSI, and one of the best schools for that is Midway City University, so he moved them there and they've been there ever since."

"What changed?" Iris asked, so engrossed that she failed to hear Barry's footsteps as he re-entered the kitchen.

"I did," Barry said, approaching them.

Iris turned around and looked at him. He was tall, especially when she was sitting. But he also looked tired.

"I wanted a change of pace." He shrugged. "I wanted to get out of Midway City."

Silence lingered between the three of them while Iris mulled that over.

"And so," Joe said, getting to his feet and gesturing to Barry, "Henry gave me a call last week and asked if there was a CSI position open at CCPD. I found out Jerry was looking to retire but Captain Singh was refusing to let him go with no young blood to come in to replace him."

"I believe he wanted some, er… old _er_ blood to replace him, Detective West."

Joe blinked, startled by the formal name.

"You can call me Joe, Barry. I've told you that. I've known your father for years. The only place you'd call me by my title is at the station."

Barry shrugged that off.

"Anyway," Joe resumed. "I talked to Singh, and he said that if Barry shadowed Jerry for a few days, and there were no problems, he'd take him on and let the old man retire."

"He's hardly old, Dad," Iris said, really entering the conversation for the first time. "He just turned sixty last month."

"He's worked at the precinct since he was Barry's age," Joe said. "Plus, he got that heart condition last year. I think that qualifies."

Iris sighed loudly. "So, why is Barry here?"

Barry laughed. Iris refused to give him her attention.

"I'm here because it's the middle of the night," he said. "My train just got in an hour ago."

Reluctantly, she turned to look at him.

"Your dad is doing my dad a favor until I can find a place of my own."

"Which should only be a few days," Joe put in. "A week tops. There are a lot of good places not far from the station."

Iris sighed quietly and sunk into the couch.

"I see."

Barry looked at Joe, briefly panicked. Joe shook his head, dismissing it.

"So, I guess you're not a burglar," Iris finally said, and then looked up at Barry.

He smiled slightly. "No more than you've got pickles in your fridge."

Joe closed his eyes. "I will get you some pickles tomorrow, Barry."

His smile widened into a cheeky grin. "Thanks, Detec—Mr.— _Joe_ West."

Joe eyed him strangely and then nodded.

"We should probably all get some sleep." He looked down at his daughter who still looked deep in thought, staring at nothing. "Iris?"

She looked up at her dad and blinked.

"Oh. Right. Yeah." She stood up suddenly and turned to Barry, who still towered over her by at least a foot. "Good to meet you, Barry." She held out a hand. After a moment's hesitation, he shook it. "Sorry for almost pummeling you with a baseball bat."

Barry grinned again. "No worries, Iris. I was being loud."

"Yes." Joe's eyes narrowed. "You were."

Barry dropped Iris's hand and swallowed hard, muttering another apology under his breath.

"Okay," Joe said, turning his gaze to Iris. "Bed. Now."

He nudged her a little, and she moved away from the two men. She gathered her bat and started to climb the stairs, looking once more over her shoulder to see her father asking this strange, new man if he needed anything else as far as his sleeping arrangements went.

There was something about this Barry Allen that intrigued her. She couldn't put her finger on what it was, but she did get the nagging feeling that she was going to be on her guard as long as he was staying in their house. She also decided that come morning she was going to try and dress a little sexier just to see how he would react.

...

 **A/N:** This will probably be a 2-3 parter, and an update will likely be delayed due to the contest reprise just requiring all multi-chaps be finished by 3/14/17. No worries though. I have plenty of other fics coming. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Finally an update. I hope you enjoy. :)

 ***** Many thanks to **sendtherain** for beta'ing.

 ***** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

...

 **Chapter 2 -**

Early the next morning, six a.m. to be exact, Iris woke up to the gross realization that she was sweaty and sticky. She couldn't recall having any nightmares, but she did remember tossing and turning a lot after the startling introduction of their late night guest.

Barry Allen.

She'd thought of him a lot before she drifted off restlessly into three hours of quasi-slumber. Her dad had said he'd moved when he was ten, so that had to mean she knew him to some extent when they were children. She couldn't recall a Barry Allen at school though, not one that could match the description of the tall, lanky man sleeping on her living room couch.

Maybe he was shorter when he was younger – _well, obviously, Iris_. She'd rolled her eyes at herself and shook her head. Most kids weren't tall at ten. He could've shot up in high school when he was nowhere near her vicinity. He could've even attended a different elementary school than her. She certainly didn't remember him or this Henry that her dad talked so fondly about visiting their house. It was perfectly reasonable that they lived farther away.

Her dad did say they still lived in Central City though. _Was there more than one elementary school in Central City?_ The knowledge escaped her. She certainly didn't ever remember writing an article on more than one local elementary school whenever she wrote about simplistic things.

Not that any of this mattered. She probably wouldn't see him that much once the week was out, if he even stayed that long.

She thought about how often she saw Jerry though – often. Whenever she went to the precinct to see her dad, in fact. With only one CSI working all the cases at the precinct, he had to work very closely with any cop investigating a homicide or any crime that required testing or analysis. If Barry was skilled enough to get hired at CCPD, that meant she wouldn't be able to avoid him.

She wondered why that bothered her so much.

Her eyes flashed open, her consciousness fully awake, when she heard the sound of water coming down the hall. It was from the nearer bathroom, not the one in her dad's room, so she knew it had to be Barry, and it made her groan.

Her dad almost always left for the CCPD before she left for CCPN, which meant Barry would have to leave with him. If Barry Allen was already in the shower, it meant he would be gone before she could see if his eyes widened at the sight of her in slightly more revealing clothing than her usual work attire.

She wondered why _that_ troubled her so much too.

It wasn't like she never got hit on. In fact, she and her best friend Linda were often the prime targets at the newspaper. It had been very flattering and boosted her ego tremendously when she first started there, but soon enough it grew tiresome because she wanted to be credited more for her work than her appearance. And she was, Linda reassured her in those early days. She was one of, if not the best journalist there, certainly the most daring in her field. A fact her father did not hesitate to frown upon even as he congratulated her every success.

 _I wonder if Barry would be impressed with my reputation at the newspaper_ , she contemplated thoughtfully, and then promptly stripped away the blankets covering her body. _Why does it even matter, Iris?_ She seethed at herself.

She got up and strode over to her closet, much as she'd done just a few short hours ago. Except this time she went to choose her outfit for the day. Then she waited impatiently until the water stopped and Barry Allen's footsteps sounded down the hall and the stairs to where her father no doubt was waiting in the kitchen.

…

"Wow, what's up with you?" Linda asked, watching with amusement as Iris West deposited herself at the desk opposite hers.

"Nothing," Iris grumbled, taking a long swallow of her very strong, very dark morning coffee, and then darting her tongue out quickly when the temperature proved too much to handle.

"Hot?" Linda asked, taking a careful sip of her own beverage.

"Scathing," her friend admitted, her lips twisted ruefully as she set her cup down away from her computer.

"Going to tell me what's up?" She pressed again.

Iris sighed and propped her elbows on her desk, caving to the desire to vent. "Why the hell not?" She blew out a puff of hair, causing some strands to fly to the side of her face.

"Ooo, language." Linda grinned. "I'm intrigued."

Iris rolled her eyes and set her chin in the palm of her hand. "My dad brought in the new CSI last night to stay with us for a few days."

Linda's eyes widened. "Barry Allen has been hired already?" she asked, gawking. "It's only been a few hours. He must be really good."

"Well, I don't know if he's been officially— Wait." Her eyes narrowed, analyzing the girl across from her. "You know about him?" Linda nodded. "How? You do Sports," she spat. "I'm the one who usually ends up at the precinct."

"But you didn't know," Linda realized, a smirk twitching at the corner of her lips. "Did you?"

Iris's eyes narrowed. "You didn't answer my question."

"Eddie Thawne told me."

"Eddie _Thawne_?" Iris asked, clearly with disgust. "What does he have to do with sports? Or wait, let me guess, you're dating him."

Linda laughed. "Hardly. His cousin happens to be the new assistant coach to our much esteemed Central City Falcons. I stopped by last week to get some info on him since, as you know, he is much cloaked in mystery."

Iris nodded absently.

"What do you have against Eddie anyway?" She took a sip of her drink. "He's very pretty."

Iris rolled her eyes. "He also keeps a tally of all the arrests he's made. That's the equivalent of boasting about how many women you've hooked up with in my opinion. I don't care how pretty he is, nobody likes someone with an ever-present inflated ego."

Linda shrugged. "He seemed alright when I talked to him."

"That's because you weren't allowing him to talk about himself. He was forced to give information on something that had nothing to do with him other than being related to the star of your article."

"Wow." Linda sank bank in her chair and crossed her arms beneath your breasts. "You've really got it bad for that Barry Allen, don't you?"

Iris nearly choked on her coffee. "What?" Her eyes were wide with shock and disbelief. Her jaw dropped. "How…How can you even say that? I'm just annoyed that my dad—"

Linda grinned. "Iris, I'm your best friend. I know you."

She scoffed. "Not this time you don't."

"No?" She raised one eyebrow.

"No." Her eyes narrowed. "I almost pummeled him last night with a baseball bat."

Her jaw dropped. "What did he _do_? Diagnose the _true_ cause of your fish's death?"

"I... _no_." She scoffed, annoyed. "Besides, my fish aren't dead, Linda."

Linda snorted into her drink. "Yet."

"I take care of my fish."

"When is the last time you fed them?" She folded her arms on her desk and stared Iris down, daring her to respond honestly.

Iris glared, but then shook her head, determined to change the subject.

"Barry almost got pummeled because he was stealing an orange out of my fridge." She decided to ignore how pathetic that excuse sounded in the light of day.

"Your fruit are that precious to you, huh?" she teased, which only bothered Iris more.

"I didn't know he was going to be there, Lin. My dad never said anything."

Linda's voice took on theatrical tones.

"So, you decided there was only _one way_ to prevent the _unthinkable_ from happening. You were going to pummel to _death_ the fruit burglar who _dared_ to enter your place of residence." Her voice resumed its normal tone. "Is that it?" She took another sip of her drink.

Iris tried to maintain her anger, but her best friend made it impossible. She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms beneath her breasts.

"You think I'm exaggerating?" Linda nodded once. "It's just weird, Lin. Apparently my dad has known Barry's dad for years and known Barry for years too, and yet he never thought to bring it up. Ever. In all these years."

"Never?"

"Well, his dad – Henry Allen – is an old friend of my dad's from college who apparently stitched him up a bunch when they were younger and my dad was a daring rookie on the force. But…" She shrugged. "Aside from that? No. Nothing."

"Hmm."

She leaned forward across her desk.

"The reporter in me is _screaming_ , Lin."

"And what about the woman in you?" She gave her a crooked, devilish grin.

Iris blinked. "What are you talking about?" she asked, sounding mystified but unable to meet her eyes for a moment.

Linda's grin widened. "You know what I'm talking about."

"I don't think I do. I mean I…"

"What do you think of him? This…Barry Allen."

"I don't even know him," she said, her voice and facial expression insisting that should be enough.

Linda shrugged. "You know a little."

"Not enough," she finally said.

"Yeah." Linda nodded. "Enough." Iris's mouth opened, but she kept going. "You know what he looks like, what he sounds like, how he reacts to a woman in pajamas threatening to pummel him with a bat – the silver one right, not the plastic?"

Iris sank into her chair, resigned, and nodded. "The silver one."

"I'm guessing you saw a touch of personality too when things got cleared up. Did he – at _any_ point – boast about his skills as a CSI?"

"No," she admitted.

"Did he hit on you?"

She sighed. "No."

"Did he disrespect your dad or make assumptions of anything he was entitled to while he's staying in your house?"

Iris avoided her eyes again.

"What's your point?" she muttered.

Linda suppressed her laughter just barely.

"As a _woman_ , not a reporter, not as someone immediately jumping to conclusions about anything, even just based on his looks… What do you think about Barry Allen?"

Iris recalled how disappointed she'd been when she realized she wouldn't be able to show off some extra skin that morning before Barry left for work with her dad.

She looked at Linda and said nothing, but the look on her face was enough confirmation.

Linda laughed once, freely, letting her know she knew.

"You're into him," she said. Iris's lips parted, but she didn't say a word. "Like I said," she took another sip of her drink and booted up her computer. "I know you."

…

That afternoon on her lunch break, Iris marched over to CCPD, determined to prove her best friend wrong. She couldn't be right about this. Iris was not the type of girl to be into someone based on one crazy interaction. It didn't matter that she found out his favorite food, how he reacted to a legitimate threat, and some of his family history, as well as how respectful and apologetic he could be whether he'd done something wrong or not – which was generally not something she'd expect even on the first date.

 _You're thinking in terms of dates now, Iris?!_

She was furious with herself.

The truth was she didn't like how Linda had put her on the spot. She had never been in denial of her attraction to a guy before. She wasn't as bold as Linda, the girl who spotted a guy and immediately pursued him, but she sure as hell didn't deny how she felt about a guy either, at the very least on a physical level.

Linda had to be reading her wrong; and if she wasn't, there was only one way for Iris to know for sure.

She would have to get all her reporter urges out of her system. She would have to invade this Barry Allen's personal space and ask him all the questions that were gnawing at her, questions that had absolutely nothing to do with the possibility of her physically attraction to him.

She would become Barry Allen's worst nightmare. If he still wasn't repulsed after that and his record came up clean…

 _Well, maybe I'll…think of something when the time comes._

But that time was not now and—

She stopped dead in her tracks when she was halfway across the lobby of CCPD. Barry was standing with her dad by his desk. They were talking seriously about something, Barry's arms folded across his chest, nodding every so often at what her dad was saying. Then he grabbed a file off her dad's desk, opened it, and presumably started talking about its contents. Her dad nodded along and they began conversing again.

She stood there, perplexed, watching the two interact. She didn't know what she expected. For Barry to be failing miserable perhaps? For him to be a total basket case? He clearly wasn't. He looked to be very much on her dad's level. There wasn't a hint of annoyance or embarrassment from either. When Singh came over to join them, there was a similar attitude between them.

Iris was about to turn away, guilt flooding through her for assuming the worst, when a familiar voice stopped her.

"Iris!"

She looked up and spotted her dad walking towards her, a welcoming grin on his face. She put away her swirling emotions and met him halfway, embracing him.

She looked over his shoulder before they parted and spotted Barry watching them. He quickly looked away when their eyes met, but the moment couldn't be erased. Just like the fluttering in her stomach couldn't be ignored. She would just have to hope the sports news Eddie had given Linda last week would be enough to keep her occupied when Iris returned to CCPN later.

"Hey, baby," her dad was saying. Iris refocused and looked up at her dad, smiling brilliantly. "What brings you here?"

"I'm uh…" Her eyes went past him to Barry, who was watching them again and quickly looked away as soon as she caught him for the second time. She looked back at her dad. "I'm on my lunch break. I just thought I'd stop by and say hi."

Joe smiled warmly. "That's really sweet, honey. You know I always love seeing you." She forced a smile as his lips twisted ruefully. "Unfortunately I have a heavy work load today, since we got called out for a double homicide as soon as we walked in this morning."

Her jaw dropped. "A double homicide?"

"Mhmm." He nodded.

Her mind started swimming with a different set of questions.

"Anything you can give me for a story?" she asked, a sneaky grin on her face.

Joe laughed. "Well, as I said, I'm a little busy right now, honey." She pouted. "But Barry was with me on the scene, so I'm sure he'd be more than happy to fill you in since he's going on break now. In fact, he's done for the day."

She felt the blood rush out of her face. " _Done_?"

"Yeah." He eyed her curiously. "He was working Jerry's shift more than shadowing him so far today, so Singh has basically ordered him to go home and do more observing tomorrow, less participating. I'm pretty sure that's just code for not wanting to look like in front of pushover for new hires, but he's clearly impressed. I'm sure by the day after tomorrow, or maybe even sooner, he'll be handing over the paperwork for Barry to fill out to become a full time employee."

"I…see."

Concern etched across Joe's face.

"Are you okay, honey? You don't look so good."

Her eyes refocused on him, and she gave him a reassuring smile.

"I'm fine, I promise. I was just hoping to spend some time with you."

Joe's gaze softened.

"Tonight after dinner," he promised. "We'll spend some time just you and me, okay?"

She nodded. Her smile soft but still forced.

"Sounds good."

"Alright, well, I should go then."

"Okay." The smile was starting to hurt. "I'll see you later."

He nodded once and then started to turn away when he remembered.

"You really should ask Barry about the case though, honey."

Barry looked up at the sound of his name, and Iris panicked. Which was ridiculous, she scolded herself, since she'd come over with the intent of interrogating him anyway.

"That boy is so excited about the case, it's unreal. And it's a _murder_."

Red flags went up.

"Why is he excited about it?" she asked, trying to sound only vaguely interested.

"According to him, the cause of death is cyanide, but they both have gunshot wounds to the head delivered post-mortem."

"That _is_ odd."

"It gets weirder."

She crossed her arms, intrigued.

"How so?"

"Well…" he hesitated, suddenly aware of what he was doing. "I really shouldn't give you too much information on a case, Iris. Especially since it's not even solved and we still have to catch the killer."

" _Dad_ ," she whined.

"If this gets out in the media, our guy might run. The _last_ thing we want is to lose the culprit because he ran as soon as the story hit."

"So I won't publish the story until you solve it. Problem solved."

He sighed.

"I don't even remember all the details. If you have to know, you should ask Barry. Like I said, he's very excited about this one."

"Well, I am _too_ , so—"

"It was a hit man," Barry said, surprising both of them as he'd done the night before.

"A _hit_ man?" Iris's jaw dropped. "How do you know?"

Barry sidled in close to her. Joe started to shift away, not even bothering with a good-bye.

"They both had folded notes in one hand that read the same thing."

"What did they say?" She couldn't hide her insatiable curiosity.

"' _Our father killed us_ ,'" he said.

"And why is that odd?" Her brows furrowed.

"Their father lives in London."

"He could have traveled and no one knew about it."

Barry shook his head.

"Joe checked it out. It's impossible."

"Why's that?"

"He's been in a coma for the last six months." Barry's intrigue and excitement were brimming not so subtly in his riveting green eyes.

Iris glanced down to what he was clutching in his hands.

"Those don't happen to be the files on the…"

"Cyanide case?" He lifted them slightly. "Yes, they are."

She swallowed, her fingers tingling with excitement.

"You want me to tell you more about it?" he asked. "I could give you some quotes for your article."

 _You're not even assigned to this story, Iris,_ she told herself. _But Barry doesn't know that, and how exciting would it be to bring back full details on an untold double homicide with mysterious circumstances?_ It was an opportunity she could not resist.

"I…would love that," she said, wondering why it was suddenly so hard to breathe.

"Great." He grinned, dimples forming in his cheeks. The butterflies returned. "Let's go up to the lab, and I'll show you the samples I tested."

He led the way, and she followed, just barely managing not to skip on the way to the staircase. There was nothing quite so thrilling as the opportunity to get hands-on with an intriguing new story.

Except, of course, the company of the very attractive man who promised to deliver details to the story she sought after.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** The final segment of my AU WA fluff fic. All fluff and nearly all westallen in this chap. I hope you enjoy it. :)

 ***** Many thanks to my beta, **sendtherain** , for going through this again.

 ***** I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

...

 **Chapter 3 -**

Barry watched her pour over her notebook – though he tried not to be obvious about it.

The fact was he was fascinated. More than he'd been at age ten when her intelligence, positively bouncy curls, and bravery had gotten the best of him. Now he was enthralled by her curiosity. The way she'd hung onto every word he'd said, sometimes asking him _more_ questions when she didn't understand, was an aphrodisiac. More than once he had turned away from her to explain what he'd found in his research, stood directly in front of his microscope, and even sat down to avoid his tented pants becoming obvious.

 _You're nearly twenty-seven, Allen. Control yourself._

But _God_ , how could he? She was breathtaking, and she didn't dismiss him as some nerd with no social life. _Both true_ , the voice sounded off in his head, but he ignored it.

 _Iris_ didn't think so. And that was all that mattered.

"So," he cleared his throat.

"Yeah?" she responded without looking up.

"Do you have any other questions?" he asked, sure a squeak had snuck into his voice. Thankfully she didn't notice.

"No, I, uh…" She stopped writing and turned to look at him.

She stared so deeply into his eyes, he was positive even blinking would ruin the moment, so he tried desperately not to.

She blinked first.

"I think I have everything," she said, beaming.

That smile was going to kill him if he didn't look away, he was convinced. It sent his heart into overdrive, at what felt like a million miles a second.

Iris closed her notebook and walked over to him, clutching the book to her chest and smiling brightly. Barry felt obliged to stand – felt _drawn_ to was more like it. Her eyes were so pinned to his with so much excitement he felt he might burst.

"I…I'm glad." He grinned, unable to contain it any longer. "It's nice to find someone as interested in the technicalities of a case as I am."

"If you're as much of a shoe-in as my dad is letting on, I may have to consult with you on further cases."

His eyes sparkled. "I'd love that," he said, nearly breathless.

Iris stepped away first, clearing her throat. Barry wondered if she'd become aware of just how close they were standing, how they couldn't look away, and how difficult it had been to not let his eyes sink to her lips.

 _Women couldn't sense that sort of thing, could they?_

She pursed her lips together and briefly avoided his gaze, but he saw she was fighting a smile and it made it impossible to hide his.

"I…should get going," she said, slowly starting to back out of the room.

His brow furrowed and he frowned, asking the question without vocalizing it.

"To work," she clarified. "Not all of us get half days."

He grinned shamelessly. "It's my first day." He slid his hands into his pockets and leaned back on the table. "And apparently I'm _very_ good."

She raised her eyebrows, amused.

"So am I. Which is why I should get back to it."

She played the annoyed card, but her eyes were still twinkling when she left.

"See you at dinner, Barry," she'd said on her way out, and he couldn't help thinking she sounded just a little bit flirtatious.

…

This time when Iris fell into her seat at CCPN, she had a blissful smile on her face. One she didn't even try to hide when Linda began her taunts..

"Iris Ann West," she said a breathless coo. "Did you make out with our new CSI?" She raised one eyebrow.

Iris's jaw dropped, but she couldn't come off offended in the slightest because her smile wouldn't go away.

"Oh my god, you did." Linda was nearly euphoric.

Iris laughed. "I didn't." Linda looked on in disbelief. "I swear I didn't." The look only barely dissipated. "But Lin, I _reeeeally_ want to."

Linda laughed. "I _knew_ you were into him."

"Guilty."

Linda grinned and brought out two water bottles from her desk drawer, handing one to Iris.

"So why don't you? Make out with him, I mean. And what happened to all your suspicion? Did you sit him down and get the truth out of him?"

Iris closed her eyes. "Dammit." A seething sigh slipped out. "No." She hesitantly opened her eyes, only to find Linda's questioning expression staring back at her. "I did not. I got distracted."

Linda couldn't contain her amusement.

"By what? His _ass_? From what I saw, he doesn't have much of one."

Iris's head whipped up. She opened and closed her mouth multiple times, but nothing came out.

"When did you meet him?" she finally managed, feeling completely unwarranted jealousy start to simmer to the surface.

" _Girl_ , he's all yours," she assured her, because as always she could read her mind. "I googled him after you left." She took a swig of her water.

"You _what_?"

"His effect on you intrigued me, so I did some research. He has a very impressive professional resume, I must say. And he's cute." She raised a finger when Iris opened her mouth to interject. "Still yours, don't worry."

Iris felt heat gather in her face. With an effort she cleared her throat.

"I got distracted by the case he was working on – well, the one he and my dad were working on today."

"Oh?" Linda asked, intrigued. Iris couldn't tell if it was by the case itself or what might have gone on with Barry.

"Double homicide, just this morning."

"No kidding."

Iris nodded. "When I asked my dad for more info, he said I should ask Barry because he knew more about the case."

"Oh, God." Linda sank back into her chair, not bothering to hide her grin or the plain as day amusement on her face. "Don't tell me." She adopted an over-the-top seductive tone. "'Iris, want to come up to my lab and check out my test results?'" She winked deliberately.

Iris reached across her desk and smacked her best friend, but she couldn't help laughing too.

"It wasn't like that."

"No? Were you hoping it was?"

"I wanted to interrogate him!" she insisted. "That's why I went over there."

"You mean, not just to say hi to your dad like you told me?"

Her mouth hung open. Linda snorted.

"Were you hoping he wanted to do more than just show you legitimate test results for a newly opened case?"

Iris started to sink back into her chair.

"Not at first," she muttered under her breath. Then she sat up suddenly. "And he got cocky, Lin! He didn't do that last night. So maybe he isn't really my type, after all."

Linda rolled her eyes.

" _Enough_ with the denial, Iris. He probably got cocky because you were feeding into his ego with how you reacted to him." She paused and looked at her best friend until she met her eyes. "Am I reaching or am I right on target?"

Iris pursed her lips tightly, unsure of how to proceed.

"Thought so."

Iris huffed and crossed her arms.

"So, what do I do?" She kept going when Linda looked about to speak. "I can't just go the precinct and…attack him." Linda gave her a pointed look that _clearly_ said 'why not?'. "We just met last night and not under the friendliest of circumstances either. Plus, he's staying in my house a couple more nights at least. What happens if my dad walks in on us…"

"You're assuming Barry feels the same way," Linda said, just to mess with her.

Iris gasped involuntarily. "Oh my god, you're right. He probably d—"

"Oh my god, he does, Iris, okay? He's totally into you."

Her brows furrowed, and she frowned.

"How do you know that? You haven't even seen us together, or met him."

Linda shrugged. "I've heard you talk about him. Mr. Humble going from I Hope I Didn't Overstep My Boundaries to I Am The Best CSI You've Ever Seen during one conversation?" She shook her head. "You've got him wrapped around your finger."

Iris bit her bottom lip. "You think so?"

"I know so." She reached across their desks to pat her friend's hand. "And hey, if you're not feeling bold enough to jump him, then just ask him out." Iris's lips parted, but once again she kept going. "You can tell yourself it's to interrogate him, which you know, is what you still want to do, right?"

Iris blinked. "Right." She paused and sank back into her chair. "Thanks. I forgot."

"I know." Linda's amused smile turned into a laugh. "No worries. I got you."

…

"Damn, what smells so good?" Joe demanded on walking into the house later that evening.

Iris was two beats behind him. She stopped just inside the door and took a whiff.

"Yeah, what _does_?"

Barry walked out of the kitchen, big grin on his face and messy apron covering half the front of his body.

"I made dinner."

Both the West's eyes bulged as they looked at each other before turning the gaze back to their house guests.

"I hope that's okay," Barry said, nerves blossoming across his face. "I know I maybe should have asked, but this Grandma Esther's recipe book you've got here looked to have some really good stuff, and—"

"Grandma Esther?" Iris's jaw dropped. "You cooked…" She walked right past both men and into the kitchen. She took another whiff and promptly started to drool. "You can cook." She went straight over to the pasta dish, grabbed a plate, and deposited a piece. She dug her fork into a chunk of it and started to lift it to her mouth when—

"Don't, it's hot!" Barry warned, coming over to her, but it was in her mouth before she could stop it. He was torn between getting her a glass of water and waiting to see if she would give him a nod of approval on his cooking skills.

Iris's eyes started to water from the temperature, so Barry quickly ran to the sink and brought her a glass of water, which she promptly brought to her lips to soothe her burning tongue.

"I told you it was hot," he reminded her.

Iris looked up at him, eyes shining, not a hint of anger in them. Then, she looked at her dad who was watching the scene playing out before him, looking as on edge as Barry was by the sight of his daughter inhaling food straight out of the oven.

"It's good, Dad," she assured him. "It's amazing." She looked back up at Barry. "My grandmother would be proud of you."

Barry's shoulders relaxed and he grinned.

"I'm glad I did it justice."

He went into the other room, grabbed some plates and utensils and brought them to the table.

"C'mon, Detective West. Tell me if I passed the test."

Still a little hesitant, Joe headed over the table, then took a seat next to his daughter.

"If Iris likes it, I'm sure I will too." He held up a plate, and Barry deposited some of the noodles onto it. "Thanks, Barry. You didn't have to do this."

"It's the least I can do since you've let me shack up here for a couple nights." He froze. "That's probably not the right term, is it? Shacking up?" He turned beat red.

Joe fixed him with a confused gaze, wondering if he should be offended. To make the moment pass, Iris reached across the table and took his hand in hers, ignoring as best as she could the sparks that crackled through her when she did.

"Come sit, Barry. Have a slice of your masterpiece."

Barry turned to her and grinned, then obliged and sat down, fixing himself a plate. At the last possible moment their hands separated, neither one noticing the glare on Joe West's face.

…

Joe turned in early that night, having fallen asleep halfway through the 'quality time' movie he'd promised Iris after dinner. Iris didn't mind. Under normal circumstances she would have, because her father was just so busy all the damn time. But this time she hadn't been overly sincere in wanting quality time, considering she'd wanted to jump Barry's bones since the second she walked into her family home and smelled her favorite dish being delivered by the hands of the stranger she never wanted to let out of her sight.

"We could finish watching the movie," Barry suggested after the walking zombie that was Joe West disappeared at the top of the stairs.

Iris bit her bottom lip and nodded.

"Just…let me change into my pjs first?"

He smiled. "Sure. I'll change into mine too."

"'Kay." She was smiling so much her cheeks hurt and no matter how many times she told herself to stop, she couldn't. "I'll…I'll be right back." She managed to push herself off the couch and head towards the stairs herself.

Barry couldn't take his eyes off her the whole way up. As soon as she was gone, he sank into the couch and tried to slow his racing heartbeat. _She was into him. She was_ _ **so**_ _into him. She_ _ **had**_ _to be into him, right?_ She couldn't stop staring, couldn't stop smiling, and had definitely been blatantly flirting with him at CCPD.

Maybe he was reading into it too much. And maybe she was just grateful for the information he'd given her on her story and the dinner he'd cooked earlier that apparently was her favorite.

 _Got lucky on that one, Allen._

Or maybe not. Since he remembered overhearing her talk about how much she loved her Grandma Esther's dishes all the way back in elementary school. It was more than pure luck though that he'd chosen the right one.

He shook his head and grabbed his own set of pajamas, taking them with him to the bathroom, so he'd be ready upon her return.

"Barry?" he heard her call out, just as he got his t-shirt over his head.

"I'll be out in a minute," he called back, sticking his toothbrush in his mouth and brushing faster than he ever had in his life. He smoothed down his hair so not a single lock was out of place. He had to be ready to impress and receive whatever she had to give him, even if it was just finishing the rest of her movie and heading to bed.

He stepped out of the bathroom, re-entered the living room, and one thought occurred to him.

He was not ready.

Because there Iris stood. No robe. Short satin pajama shorts. A black cami that hugged her figure. And her hair in a messy bun that left little tendrils of hair drifting by her ear and the nape of her neck.

" _Jesus_."

Iris turned to him at the sound.

"Hey," she said softly. "You coming?"

He nodded, because he knew speaking would be a bad idea.

"What?" she asked coyly, as he eyed her figure even as he told himself not to. "Like what you see?"

He blushed a pretty red and swallowed.

"Iris…"

"Yes, Barry?" she grinned, very aware of how suddenly nervous he had become.

"Are we—" He stopped and cleared his throat when the squeak came out, making her dark eyes all the more dazzling and her lips more tempting than ever when they curved into a seductive smirk.

"We're watching a movie, right?" he tried again, meeting her eyes – _forcing_ himself to.

She nodded once and plopped down on the couch.

"Yep." She patted the spot beside her. "Come sit by me."

It was hesitant, but Barry hobbled over to her and sat where she had indicated. Immediately, Iris curled up next to him and snuggled her face against his shoulder. He had to fight to breathe, slowly counting the seconds away in his head. She must have registered his tension, because she paused the movie and slowly pulled away.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Her brows furrowed in genuine concern.

" _What_?" he squeaked again, briefly avoiding her gaze. "No way. I like…cuddling."

Her lips twisted ruefully.

"It doesn't make sense, does it? Last night I try to pummel you with a baseball bat and tonight I'm all over you like some horny teenager."

He blushed fiercely again.

She sighed and sank back into the couch.

"I forgot to interrogate you again too," she said aloud and shook her head. "God, I hate when Linda's right."

Barry's brows furrowed. "Who's Linda?"

"My co-worker," she said. "And my best friend. She guessed—" She stopped herself before she spilled every thought that was pouring out of her head. "She just knows me really well."

He nodded once. "'Kay," he whispered, mostly to himself.

Iris turned her face away, thoroughly embarrassed, and mumbled incoherently to herself.

"What are you _doing_ , Iris?"

Barry's eyes widened, panicked. He moved to reassure her.

"Hey, you're not doing anything wrong," he assured her. "Okay? You're not."

She lifted her head cautiously.

"I'm not?"

He laughed, but more at himself than anything.

"You're not. I'm just…" He cleared his throat. "I've had a crush on you since I was a kid."

Her jaw dropped. "You have?"

He nodded.

"But how? I don't even remember you."

His lips twisted ruefully.

"We didn't exactly run in the same circles, Iris. I was bullied a lot. You weren't."

She sat up more and turned to face him.

"People notice who the bullies and the victims are though, Barry. That fact alone should've made me sit up and take notice. I would've put a stop to it."

He smiled and looked down at her adoringly.

"I have no doubt that if I was near you would have tried. Your dad told me how hard he had to fight to make sure you didn't end up a cop."

"And that's another thing," she continued, dismissing the cop jab. "How come I don't know anything about you? I get the impression my dad has visited you."

Barry nodded once. "He has."

"So why not tell me? It's like you're this other family he's ashamed to talk about."

Barry sunk in on himself, and Iris closed her eyes regretfully.

"That's not—I didn't mean—"

"No, don't." He took a deep breath. "I can see how it would look that way."

"Barry…" she whispered softly.

"Look, I guess the reason your dad never said anything was because he was so involved with our family when my mom was dying. He probably didn't want to bring you into that situation and have to explain what was going on, especially after you lost your mom."

She lowered her eyes and started to fiddle with her hands.

"He told you about that, huh?"

"Not me. My dad. I just eavesdropped." He chuckled slightly, hoping to lighten the mood, but it didn't work.

Iris sighed and laid her head on the couch cushion.

"I guess I can see that. But that doesn't explain why I didn't even know you before that happened. You lived in Central City too. We went to the same school. Why wouldn't our parents want to set us up?" Heat rushed to her face again. "I mean, on play dates when we were kids."

"Probably because I didn't want to," he admitted sheepishly.

" _What_?" she gawked. "I thought you said you had a crush on me."

He blushed. "I did. But I wasn't real extroverted, Iris. I liked to keep to myself and work on my many science experiments. Having to interact with the only person that left me more spellbound than the mysteries of science?" He laughed nervously. "It was terrifying."

"So we didn't become friends because you didn't want to."

He shrugged. "I was scared."

She watched him, still a bundle of nerves, his long eyelashes shielding his beautiful green eyes from her sight.

"I wish I'd noticed you then, Barry. I wish somehow we'd met. I know we would've been friends."

He glanced up at her. "I was in accelerated classes if that makes you feel better. And I know for a fact that my locker was on the other side of the school."

"But you noticed _me_."

He sighed and shook his head, drinking her in with an awe that stole her breath.

"How could I not? I took one look at you campaigning for fourth grade student president and knew exactly where my vote would go. _Iris West is the Iris Best. Vote for me. I'll take care of the rest_."

Iris put her face in her hands.

"Oh my God, that _was_ my slogan, wasn't it?"

Barry nodded and she lifted her head, smiling.

"Sold me," he said to which she laughed.

She put her hand on his face and her smile subdued into softness.

"I think I'm done interrogating you, Barry Allen."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She pursed her lips. "I may not exactly understand why my dad chose to keep his visits to your family a secret all this time, but maybe the answer isn't all that important. Maybe our dads drifted apart, and it wasn't until your mom got sick that they felt drawn to each other for support."

"Could be," he agreed. "It probably is."

"And I don't have to go prying." She rolled her eyes and smiled playfully. "I mean, prying is pretty much second nature for me, so it'll be hard, but…" Her smile widened. "I think something else might be even more rewarding."

"Yeah?" His eyes twinkled down at her. "What's that?"

Her hand on his face wrapped around the back of his neck, she bit her lip and fixed her eyes on his, then pulled him to her and stopped just a breath away from him.

"Kissing you," she whispered, and he obliged before she could get out another word.

"This is going to be hard," he murmured between one kiss and another.

"What is?" she said between two others, shivering when his hand cupping her face moved down to the small of her back.

"Restraining myself when your dad's in the room."

Iris pulled away, lips swollen and eyes dazzling.

"I have great news for you, Barry Allen."

He gave her a crooked grin. "What's that?"

"My dad is upstairs _faaaast_ asleep. And I'm right here." She brushed her nose against his. "With you."

He captured her lips again, his hands roaming, and went with her when she laid back. She pulled him with her and wrapped her legs around his waist, her hands roaming too.

She moaned into him, and he groaned into her, and several minutes later when they were nearly out of breath, they parted.

"What the _hell_ is going on down here?" Joe's voice boomed from the bottom of the stairs.

Both Barry and Iris's eyes widened and they sat up abruptly, frozen and quickly moving apart when their eyes fixed on his. They said nothing.

" _You_ are moving out tomorrow," he pointed at Barry, then switched his gaze to Iris. "And you…" He seemed at a loss at first of how exactly to punish her. "Not in my house."

He turned and went back up the stairs.

Barry and Iris looked back each other and burst out laughing.

"He's right, you know," Iris said, trying to contain herself. "We probably shouldn't…"

"You have only known me a day, technically speaking," he pointed out.

She pouted. "Feels longer than that."

His brows furrowed, but he was smiling. "How so?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and sealed her contented feelings with a single, sweet kiss.

"Feels like I've known you forever."

…

Later that night, when Iris was reluctantly tucked away in her bed and Barry was supposedly asleep on the couch, Iris heard a clatter like the night before. Fairly sure of the source of the noise, she didn't fetch her bat and instead gleefully tiptoed down to the first floor.

When Barry closed the fridge, jar of pickles in his hand, he found Iris standing there, brilliant smile on her face. He froze.

"Why, look, there's a burglar in my kitchen. Whatever am I going to do?"

He smiled slowly, then sat the jar of pickles on the nearby counter. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

"I can't help but notice that you came unarmed, Miss."

Her eyes dropped to his lips and then lifted again, mischief glittering in her gaze. She stood on her tip toes until her lips reached his and rejoiced inside when he returned her kiss enthusiastically.

She pulled away suddenly, giddy when his lips chased after hers.

"In that you are mistaken, Mr. Allen."

He tried to kiss her again, but she pulled back just in time and laughed.

"You drive me crazy, Iris West." He tightened his arms around her. "What am I missing?"

She closed the distance between them and brushed her lips lightly against his, answering him in one seductive whisper before succumbing to his hungry kisses.

"There's more than one way to catch a thief."

...

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading. Happy reviews are love. :)


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